


Hic Sunt Dracones

by Savageandwise



Category: Music RPF, Oasis (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Corona Virus - Freeform, Gallaghercest | Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher Incest, M/M, present day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27086143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageandwise/pseuds/Savageandwise
Summary: After recording the podcast episode 'Stu-Stu-Studio with Noella', Noel dares Matt to get a drink in a pub despite his worries about being out and about in London during the pandemic. In the pub, who should Matt run into but Noel's infamous younger brother?
Relationships: Liam Gallagher/Matt Morgan (Comedy RPF), Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher, Noel Gallagher/Matt Morgan (Comedy RPF)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 28





	Hic Sunt Dracones

**Author's Note:**

> here's a thing I've been thinking about for ages. 
> 
> This started life as a Noel/Matt fic but demanded to be something else...
> 
> It was interesting and a bit tricky to write about present day. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Matt spies him out of the corner of his eye. He's leaning back, gesticulating with one hand, the other hand clamped around his pint as he explains something to the barman. For one insane moment he's dead certain it's Noel. That would make sense, wouldn't it, for it to be Noel? After all, he dared him to come here. He said it was silly he was too scared to get a drink in a pub. If he had a beer in a pub and took a selfie to prove it he'd give him an electric guitar.

"You were going to give me one anyway," Matt pointed out.

"Yes, but tell you what...I'll give you a really good one if you go down the pub and have a drink. Want me to pay? I'll pay!"

Noel pulled out his wallet at once and Matt waved it away.

"Ooooh," Noel said mockingly. "Don't use cash anymore, either?"

"Look, it's not because I'm scared. I told Katie I'd be back tonight. If I have a drink I can't drive."

"One drink? Then take a taxi," Noel said, his eyes crinkling with amusement. 

"I'm not leaving my car here, taking a taxi home and then what? Take a train back to get my car tomorrow? That's ridiculous."

"So get a room somewhere," Noel said impatiently.

"There are people dying and you want me to get a room in London because you dared me to."

"Yeah. Slather yourself in fucking sanitiser. Wear a full fucking body condom. Live a little!"

Matt wasn't going to take him up on the dare, because it was plain ridiculous and because he wasn't suicidal, but then he does. He isn't sure why he does—Noel's "not the boss of him", as his six-year-old Coen says—but there you have it. He gets a hotel room and heads out to find a pub. He picks one because the name sounds vaguely familiar: Prince of Wales.

He's fully convinced the man stood at the bar chatting with the barman behind the perspex wall is Noel and that this was all part of the plan. He's about to shout over, _Noella, you wanker!_ when the man at the bar shifts and he can see his body is all wrong. He's too bulky, his arms are too long. Of course it isn't Noel. Something about his gestures. It's just something about his bone structure, the heavy brows, the set of his eyes, something in the mouth. It's Liam, of course. By the time Matt realises that, he's spotted him and waving him over. Ah, shit, Matt thinks. What were the odds?

"You here with you-know-who?" Liam asks without so much as a hello.

"Russell?" Matt asks automatically, because time was he and Russell were joined at the hip.

"Noel." There are layers upon layers of emotion in Liam's voice when he says his brother's name. In contrast, Noel always swallows Liam's name down like he's afraid to say it out loud. Afraid if he opens that box, all the evils of the world will come pouring out.

"No. Just saw him, though. At his new studio."

Liam's face shifts into a scowl. "Yeah. I heard about that. His own studio. So if he wakes up at one in the fucking morning he could just churn one out."

Matt watches him for a moment, uncertain if he's angry or filled with admiration. 

"Yeah. It's practical," he says at last. He feels strange, like he's being unfaithful to Noel somehow, talking to Liam. Then he remembers. "Nice to finally meet you, by the way. I'm Matt Morgan."

"I know who you are and that," Liam says dismissively. He drinks down his beer in one go. "Want summat?" 

Matt hesitates.

"Hand on me heart you tell him you had a drink with me he won't give a fuck."

He's not sure about that. Noel is unfathomable. Sometimes Matt brings up Liam and he can feel him bristle with anger. Sometimes Noel brings him up on his own, his voice soft with affection. Matt always feels like a kid listening in on the adults making references they think go over his head.

"If he gives you shit you just tell him he's being a cunt." He grins and then bites the cuticles off his thumb. Noel does that, too, and he chews his nails like a kid. 

Liam's one of those people who likes to lean close during a conversation, which makes Matt nervous, considering they're meant to be socially distancing, but he forces himself to stay put. When the barman sets his beer down in front of him through the perspex screen, he hesitates for a moment.

"Gonna take your mask off, man?" Liam asks. "Chris! Give my mate a straw! He's keeping his mask on." Liam calls out to the barman.

"Liam," Chris the barman says. "You know the rules. Take your drink and your mate and sit down at a table."

Liam strides towards the nearest table, grumbling under his breath. Matt follows him. It's one of those pubs with a thick floral carpet and solid dark wood tables and chairs. An old style pub, not one of those fancy gastro ones. There are no menus on the tables, hygiene measures. Matt sits, takes off his mask and sticks it in his pocket. He takes a long gulp of his drink and sighs. Beer just tastes better in a pub. Liam claps him on the shoulder, laughing, and then sits down across from him. 

Liam is easy to talk to. He jumps from topic to topic, rapid-fire. He's funny. Easily as funny as Noel, but without that cruel edge. At times he's silent, brooding, and then, all at once, he says something hilarious. It sounds almost unintentional, like he's a complete idiot. Either that, or his comic timing is flawless.

Matt can't stop comparing him to Noel. He can't stop bringing Noel up, it's a compulsion. Like John Cleese in Fawlty Towers. That bit where he isn't supposed to mention the war in front of the German hotel guests, and of course he can't stop mentioning the war. Matt has said Noel's name five times in a row now.

"You're his new flame, innit?" Liam says with a sly sidelong glance.

Matt shrugs, smiles secretively. No point defending himself. He can tell that would be chum to a shark like Liam. "Jealous?"

"Fuck I am. I'm happy, me," Liam says all at once, his voice prickly and defensive. "If it wasn't for the...you-know-what...Corona thingy...everything would be perfect." 

Matt raises his glass to that. 

"Fucking stupid, our kid. Bragging about not wearing a fucking mask on the train," Liam mumbles into his glass.

"Did you listen to it?" Matt asks, raising an eyebrow. "Or just read the headlines?"

Liam doesn't answer, he's fallen head first into a rant about masks and closing times. Matt lets him talk, he can see the cool, antiseptic blue of a mask peeking out of his jacket pocket. Liam sees him looking.

"I've got Hashimoto's, of course I wear a mask. Noel just thinks he's more interesting if he's against the establishment. That's all. He probably wears two," Liam assures him. "You think he's a fucking rebel, don't you? You're all impressed by him when all he is...all he is, right? All he is is just a narky old man. He's fucking contrary, is what he is."

Matt can't help grin. He isn't sure he ever really bought that crude, two-fingers-up-against-the-establishment image. The man who once said, _I take coke the way others get up and have a cup of tea in the morning._ He can picture Noel perfectly, that look of wide-eyed incredulousness, the pause as he contemplates the best way to put something, the lines that crease the skin between his eyes. The rise and fall of his voice, how it stretches before him like a road he's traveling on, smooth for miles and then stoney. He's no longer Noel Gallagher to him, the man who wrote "Wonderwall". Noel is just Noel.

It's almost closing time, last orders. Matt agrees to one last drink reluctantly.

"I ain't twisting your arm, man. You can go home and that. I'm having a last drink, me," Liam says, shuffling off to the bar. He returns carrying their pints.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Liam asks. "All by yourself like...you didn't come here cos you figured you might bump into me, did you?"

Matt shakes his head. "There's that Gallagher ego. Yes. There's an app, yeah? You type in the celebrity you want to stalk and it spits out their location."

"Fucking hell," Liam says in amazement. "They'll stop at nothing."

"I'm joking," Matt says.

Liam gives him a slow grin and raises his glass. "To chance encounters," he says.

"Chance encounters," Matt echos.

"No, really," Liam says after a moment. "Why are you here on your own, like? You always seemed like the type always surrounded by mates."

Matt sighs heavily and takes another sip of his beer. "Noel dared me to," he admits.

Liam glares suspiciously, then he explodes. "I knew it! Fucking knew it, man! He put you up to this? If he wants to tell me something, right? If he has something to say, he's got my fucking number!"

"Look, Liam. This really is just a freak coincidence. It was nothing to do with you. He just dared me to come out and have a drink...because I've been nervous about going out since the whole virus thing started."

Liam leans back slightly. "He dared you to go down the pub and have a drink," he says slowly. 

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you just say you did it, then? You're concerned about your health, yeah? And there's him telling you to go fly in the face of that concern. He's a bully!"

"I don't think…" Matt starts.

"He's a fucking bully!" Liam says, raising his voice. 

"He was just having a laugh…I mean...I wanted to…"

"Sure. You wanted to. So how will he know you really...you know...really did it?"

Matt pulls out his phone and holds it up. "Selfie."

Liam reaches over and takes it from him. "Right. Hold up your drink and give us a smile. This is better than a selfie, ain't it?"

Matt agrees, he poses with his beer, flutters his eyelashes and then purses his lips like a girl on Instagram. "Is that...was that a good one?"

Liam squints down at the screen. "Yeah, perfect."

Matt holds out his hand for his phone, but Liam shakes his head, grinning mischievously, touches his tongue to his upper lip. "Go on, then...get one with me and send it him."

He slides out of his chair and comes round beside Matt, holding up the phone.

"What about social distancing?" Matt says nervously as Liam puts his arm around his shoulders. 

"Promise not to get me spit on you," Liam says. He leans close to Matt and holds out the phone, presses his cheek against Matt's. It feels vaguely affectionate, like they've known each other longer than a scant hour. "There you go, send him that. That ought to make things even with that cunt. Bullying his mate into doing something he don't want to during a fucking pandemic."

"You're really making a big deal out of a very small thing, you know," Matt says.

"Yeah...very small, isn't he?" Liam smirks.

"You never get tired of that, do you? The jokes about his size?" 

"Don't change a winning team, right? Always makes him well angry," Liam says with a strangely tender chuckle.

"Look. I'm curious. How do you expect to ever make things right if you keep prodding him like that? You're only making things worse."

"Oh! You reckon? Now that Matthew Morgan has pointed out what I'm doing wrong...hand me your phone, mate...let's call him right now."

"I'm only saying…"

"Yeah, you're only saying. Everyone's always only saying. We're brothers, right? Everyone should mind their own fucking business."

"Well, it's not working, is it? Noel is...he's just...he's very…" Matt struggles to choose the right words.

"He's fucking stubborn, innit?" Liam interrupts him. 

"You're both fucking stubborn, mate. You'd think with a pandemic going on, reconciling with your brother might be pretty fucking high up there on your to-do list."

"I'm willing to let sleeping dogs lie, me. Just as soon as he comes crawling back to me and admits he was wrong," Liam says, folding his arms over his chest.

"Gonna be waiting a good long while with that one," Matt says matter-of-factly. "Look, I'm with you. I think he should just put it behind him already."

Liam is staring at him. He's got a look on his face like he's only now seeing him for real, like until now he's only been some silly comedy guy. That mate of Russell's. The bloke on YouTube interviewing Noel.

"You do?"

"Yeah," Matt says. "I do."

There's something horrible about the way Liam looks at him. Painfully hopeful, wide-eyed, incredulous. He looks like a kid sat in front of his Christmas gifts. He looks, for a moment, nothing at all like Noel. And then he deflates like a popped balloon, like he's run out of bluster and confidence. He looks exhausted.

"Think you can pull the wool over my eyes, eh?" Liam rasps.

"Pardon?" Matt asks, frankly staring.

"What you looking at?" Liam says angrily. He draws himself up to his full height. It's startling how quickly his mood has flipped. It's absolutely mental. 

"Look, man. I didn't come here to start anything. I honestly think you two should make up. And I was here, you were here. We had a nice chat, you bought me a drink, no harm done."

"Didn't you? Didn't you want to start something? You and Noel, thick as thieves on your fucking podcast, laughing behind me back. Liam's desperately in love with his brother..."

"Come on. He's said worse. I've said worse…" Matt says mildly. His mind is racing, he's trying to figure out how to extract himself before it comes to blows. He can feel himself tensing in anticipation.

"Doesn't matter," Liam says with a magnanimous shrug. "You're just trying to sweeten me up. Like you sweeten him up by bad-mouthing me. Cause then maybe he'll let you suck his dick, right?"

Matt's annoyed now, annoyed enough to get up and leave. Maybe because, yeah, he was sweetening Liam up a bit. Maybe he does want to be on his good side. There's something overwhelming about Liam, like he sucks out all the air in the room just sitting here. It must be so difficult to be this man's brother, Matt can't help think. It must be so difficult to be on stage with him. Maybe it's because Matt can hear himself when he plays back the recordings for the podcast. He can hear himself hanging on Noel's every word. He fucking sounds like he wants to suck Noel's dick. 

"You know all about sucking his dick," Matt says crudely, a beat too late, "do you?"

"Yes," Liam says simply. "Yes, I fucking do." He doesn't even blink when he says it. 

If Matt is honest with himself, he's not entirely certain if Liam is taking the piss or not. On the one hand, why would he be serious? On the other, why would he joke about that? Matt laughs nervously, rubs his beard. And after a moment Liam laughs, too, and the moment is over and Matt can't figure out if it was weird or not. 

He excuses himself, slips on his mask and heads to the loo, still wondering what the hell that was. He's not sure if he should tell Noel this story. Matt is good at telling stories, he knows how to make even the dullest experience sound funny. And this meeting with Liam, this is funny. This is really fucking funny. Or it was. The whole mood has tipped now. It feels more than ever like a clandestine affair. Matt steps into a stall rather than use the trusty pissoir. He pisses, shuts the lid and flushes, then stands there a moment, just going over the conversation with Liam. He snaps out of his distracted state when he hears the sound of the faucet, steps out to see Liam standing over the sink. Matt nods, takes his place beside him to scrub his hands. It's not a small room, but Matt feels as though Liam is standing too close to him. Of course, these days he always feels like people are standing too close.

Matt dries his hands with the air dryer, shakes off the last droplets and then reaches for the hand sanitiser. Liam is watching him in the mirror, the expression in his eyes guarded, turned inward. He looks so much like Noel, with that surgical mask covering his nose and that famous mouth. Matt tries to think of something to say to defuse the situation, but for once his mind is perfectly, horribly blank. He's still holding onto the plastic bottle of hand sanitiser when Liam reaches over and places a hand over his. For a moment Matt doesn't understand. He feels a dark thrill at the bottom of his stomach. It's been months since anyone other than Katie or the kids touched him this directly. Even the hugs he'd exchanged with Noel earlier today hadn't seemed half as invasive. Matt croaks out a small sound of protest, and Liam pushes down on the dispensing pump with his thumb and releases the cool gel onto Matt's outstretched palm. 

Liam slips Matt's hand between his, the gel oozes between their fingers, cold and wet, the sharp antiseptic scent of it reaching his nostrils despite the mask. Liam's touch is gentle but firm, and Matt realises he's holding on tight enough that he would have to pull away quite deliberately in order to escape Liam's grasp. He doesn't understand why he doesn't pull away, why he laughs nervously behind the mask, eyes fixed on their fingers. He puts his other hand over their clasped ones. He can hear Liam suck in his breath. It feels good. That's what finally registers. It feels good, even thrilling, to touch another human being.

Liam's thumb is on his wrist bone, caressing it like he's rubbing a lucky penny. He lifts his other hand to Matt's chin, tilts up his head so he has to look at him proper. He can see the stiff blue mask move as Liam inhales and exhales again, looks up to see his wide eyes, pupils blown. 

Matt thinks he's going to be sick. He's going to be sick inside his mask. He can feel Liam slip his fingers under the thin elastic band that fixes the mask to his face. Matt's frozen in place. This is a fancy game of chicken, that's what this is. Liam's fingertips slide into his hair. He holds his breath, shuts his eyes. One step closer and he's going to bolt. One more move, one more touch. Liam's face is right up against his, the smooth papery fibre of his mask rubbing against his cheek. 

They're mask against mask, he can feel the vague warmth of Liam's breath as he pushes his mouth against his. There's no excuse for this. No excuse for not scrambling out of that door. Except that the world is on its head, and Noel dared him to go out, and now this: Liam Gallagher pressing his face against his, mouths and noses shielded by that stiff wall of surgical blue. He can feel the shape of Liam's lips through the material. This is a kiss, it hits Matt hard, nausea spreading through him. He's never kissed a man. Certainly never like this. Liam's hands, still slick with sanitiser, are in his hair, he presses his mask harder against Matt's. His breath is caught in his throat. 

It's barely even real with the masks on. The shape of Liam's tongue, warm but dry behind the mask. That's not real. His own mouth falls open. Not real. They rub against each other, the folds of the masks catching on each other. Liam's nose peeks out, and instead of recoiling, Matt brings up a hand to feel it, beaky and slightly crooked. Liam rubs his nose against Matt's ear. His masked lips slide over Matt's jaw, his fingers splay against his beard. He tugs it briefly and Matt winces. The pain is real. Liam's mouth is on his again, kissing him over and over through that crisp barrier. It's not enough, that's the thought that flickers through Matt's mind. Like seeing someone you desire on Skype. Seeing them naked, but not being able to smell them, not being able to touch their skin. Like sex with a condom on that leaves you longing to tear it off, fuck bare so you feel every fucking thing. Hot and wet and real. 

Liam lets out a groan of impatience and then Matt feels the shape of his teeth through the mask. He's feral, it's insane. It's not enough. 

They break apart, breathing hard. Walk away, Matt tells himself and reaches up to pull off his mask. This is ridiculous. Liam's hands are on his own mask, slipping it down to his chin. It's real now. _Hic sunt dracones_ —beyond this point there be dragons. Something about the flash in Liam's blue eyes reminds him of Noel, daring him to come out tonight. And he's got Liam's face between his hands, his mouth on Liam's. Liam's lips are softer than he expected, he's gentle at first, then vicious, pushes his tongue between Matt's lips and into his mouth and against his tongue, and he can't breathe. His mind is racing. He doesn't want to stop, he wants to sail right on, past the end of the map. He wants to see those dragons. 

It feels like Liam wants to swallow him whole. He's sloppy, passionate, his mouth is so big. Unbidden, Matt pictures Noel's neat little mouth, his mocking smile. This isn't right on so many levels. Matt puts his hands on Liam's chest and pushes him gently.

"Enough," he murmurs. His head feels fuzzy.

Liam's just staring at him, his chest heaving. That ragged sound in his ears is Liam struggling to catch his breath. They aren't even drunk. At least Matt's not really drunk. Liam leans in again and Matt pushes him away with both hands. 

"No, I...you need to stop."

It hits him just as he says the words. Liam might be infected. He puts his hand up to cover his mouth, disgust rising up in him. There's a deadly virus out there. People are dying and he's just risked his health, his family's health and he isn't sure why. He kissed him. He damn near ate his face off. Saliva. He fucking...fucking exchanged saliva with a stranger, like he has a fucking death wish. 

"What the hell was that?" Matt asks, crossing his arms over his chest. All at once he's angry at the man who looks a bit like Noel, standing awkwardly before him. "There's a fucking virus going on! You can't just..."

Liam narrows his eyes at Matt and shrugs slowly. "I'd say it was fucking mutual, Rasta." He lets out a soft, humourless laugh.

Matt turns back to the sink stiffly and washes his hands and face violently, rinses out his mouth. He scrubs his hands again, considers marching back to the bar and demanding a double vodka to disinfect his insides. That doesn't work though, he knows. The scientists debunked it. When he turns back to face Liam, he's startled to see a hurt expression on his face.

"Look, I done a test a few days ago. I've been careful. Been at home. I reckon you've been...I reckon…" he breaks off there, looking pensive. His hands are curled limply at his sides.

"Noel was right about you. You're quite 'jump now, think later', aren't you?" Matt says, not unkindly.

"Noel was...what's he said about me? He says that, does he? You know, half the time...more than half the time it was Noel started it. It was his bright idea that got us into it."

"Is that it? Thought you'd...here's a mate of Noel's…"

"Did I kiss you because my brother has a crush on you? Say it like it is, man. I kissed you and you kissed me back. You fucking kissed me..." 

He says the word so forcefully it makes Matt shiver in spite of himself. What's a kiss, really? Lips together, tongues together, exchanging spit. Something you do with someone you love. That's how Katie explained it to Winter only last week. Something you do with someone you're attracted to. Does Liam turn him on? Has a man ever turned him on? _Did I kiss you because my brother has a crush on you?_ Has a crush on you. A laugh is bubbling its way up out of him and he suppresses it. Matt feels a shiver at the bottom of his stomach at those words, a pang, much like arousal.

"Did you?"

Liam hesitates a moment. "Yeah."

He doesn't know what to say to that. He's just standing there, his beard wet from washing his face. Liam reaches over and touches his cheek.

"You've got some soap…" he says gently.

"Look, I…" Matt says slowly, he struggles to put what he's feeling into words. "I don't claim to understand what's going on between you and...and...Noel. I know you want your brother back. He's my...we've been mates for a while and…"

"It ain't just that. Fuck that. You know what I mean," Liam says firmly.

"I don't," Matt insists because he doesn't know what Liam means. "Are you saying you don't go around kissing all Noel's friends?" He allows himself a small smile, laughs nervously.

"Yeah, you're special, baby," Liam says dryly. 

"This was...let's just...just...we better leave before they kick us out. Curfew…" He hedges uncomfortably, searching for the right way to tell Liam he'd like to keep this private. Then it occurs to him no one would believe him anyway.

They put their masks back on and make their way out of the loos and back to the main room. 

"Thanks for the...for the beer," Matt says. He pulls his coat off the back of his chair.

"Yeah...no worries…you live in London, then?" Liam asks.

"No. Got a room for tonight."

"You got a room...where? The Ritz? You got a room because you made a bet with Noel? Did you think he'd join you? Is that it? A little night of passion?"

Matt rolls his eyes. "Yeah, that's it."

"You can take me instead." He looks completely in earnest. Matt has already figured out it's difficult to tell when Liam is joking and when he's serious, because everything he says is so outrageous. 

"Sure," Matt says, pulling on his jacket. Liam never took his off. He laughs heartily. "We can order room service. Maybe try out some Kamasutra positions."

Liam raises an eyebrow and Matt shakes his head. 

"Your loss," Liam shrugs. "Chris!" he calls out to the barman. "Christopher, give us a pen, yeah? And one of them beer mats."

He reaches through the perspex division for the items and leans down to write something. For one insane moment Matt thinks he's giving him an autograph, but it's a telephone number. 

"You change your mind, you know what to do," Liam says.

It's a fancy game of chicken, that's what it is. Fucking Gallaghers.

**Author's Note:**

> interesting sources of inspiration:
> 
> That Matt quote: "He’s just so... desperately in love with his brother and wants, you know, like, I think he’s just a man in pain in that situation — it hurts him. It’s like the worst break-up, and... He doesn’t understand how to fix it, so he just lashes out left, right and center.”
> 
> Matt joking at the end of episode 15 that Noel's 'family business appointment' is meeting Liam to finally make up.
> 
> Liam tweeting that Noel should stick to talking shit with his lover MM
> 
> Matt seems to be a compassionate person generally speaking but it particularly struck me when he speaks about Liam. I mean he makes dumb jokes but isn't meaner about him than he is about anyone else really. He gets Noel to talk about Liam fairly often and when he does he even occasionally sounds civil...
> 
> Special thanks to twinka!!!!! Love you ♡


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